


Unforgettable

by ChickenFrappe



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Interviews, Johnny makes him really uncomfortable, Light Bondage, Loving Marriage, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, johnny is kinky, nosy interviewer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenFrappe/pseuds/ChickenFrappe
Summary: Johnny Suh on air, live tv, telling his fans how he fucks his husband after a long flight.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 6
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

“How would you describe your husband? Or- or how you two mingle in general, what’s it like in a house with Johnny and Ten?” The interviewer was very nervous, but persistent. He was the only one who managed to receive an email back from Johnny Suh.

He doesn’t have a good history with Johnny either, which is why he was so nervous, and confused with why he accepted his interview offer.

It wasn’t for the money, Johnny had more than enough. His husband owns a business and Johnny was an actor as well as a singer.

“He travels a lot for business,” Johnny starts, the camera closing in one him as a chuckle resurfaces.” He’s usually fatigued when he comes home, but he has enough energy to want to eat, we laugh a lot together, a lot of stupid bullying and playful bickering-”

“And I’ve heard rumors, that I’m sure you’ve heard as well. Ten is capable of having an affair while off in France, or Austria. Thailand since that’s where he’s from and visits most often.” He cut him off. Johnny completely understood, if he didn’t hear what he wanted to hear, the interviewer would try and make him say what he wants. He wants it interesting, he wants ‘ the tea.’

“What are you implying?” He narrows his eyes tight at the interviewer. Because where does he get off?

Right, as a nosy interviewer.

“Do you think he may be meeting with a certain someone. I mean surely- He’s gone to Thailand plenty of times in the past year, that was reported.” He quickly says at the end to draw attention away from the fact that he may be following the famous husband. Do you believe he has his own...lets say ‘secret life’ away from you.”

“I emailed you back, accepted your phone call, flew all the way to Arizona, went through hundred of fans outside of your building, had security push me to keep me safe from my passionate fans, patted down and led into an elevator for five minutes for you to ask me if I think my husband of four years, known him for 11 prior to even having the balls to ask him out...is cheating on me? I have that correct, verify that for me.”

“You are correct, Mr. Suh.” He shifted in his seat as Johnny kept eye contact with him. He was definitely nervous, there was sweat at his hairline and his foot tapping intensified.

“I know he isn’t.” He waves his hand.

“And how would you be so sure? There’s plenty of other men and women in different counties. He speaks over ten languages, he’s bound to-“

“You know how I ‘think’ he’s not getting his brains screwed out by some European?” He says openly, the set behind also shifting on their feet. Johnny was a big man with a quick temper. His manager wants him to keep his reputation and also be allowed back in the building.

The interviewer coughs. He straightens his back, almost fearfully being this close to Johnny. If this wasn’t a heavily guarded environment, he doesn’t doubt he’d be sporting a black eye and a raw stomach.

He doesn’t think his fans would disown him either. They’d probably demand him to have another ass-whopping in a week or two.

“My Tennie, Chittaphon, number one, loves me too much to even consider fucking someone else. He didn’t even give me ass until he told me he loved me. And number two, the way he comes home from one of his business meetings is something unforgettable.”

“That’s not really evidence, anyone can come home happy, Mr.Suh.”

“He’s not happy, he’s far from happy.He opens the door with a key he usually spends 20 minutes a day looking for constantly. No, when he comes home he has it prepared in his palm. He nearly breaks the door off, and he’ll look me up and down in my sweatpants and breakfast stained t-shirt like I’m the most delicious meal on the planet.”

“So the way he looks at you? That’s-“ the interviewer looks offset at a few of the crew members with a laugh.” That’s absurd.”

“We barely make it up the stares before someone is in someone. Usually in the foyer, he’ll throw off his slacks, the door will be cracked while he’s pulling me closer. We’ll tumble into the wall with nothing more then the spit from his mouth to slip in that tight ass of his.”

“Mr. Suh.” Johnny leans his head into his hand, smiling softly at the thought.” Let’s keep this professional.”

“You wanted my honest answer.”

”Yes, but-” he laughs, his eyes continuously darting towards the crew.” Lets keep-“

“I don’t think he’s ever loosened up, the amount of times he’s passed out on me obliging him, fucking him senseless.”

“Take him off air.” The interviewer snaps. The camera man zooms out of his face and pans on the two of them.” I said take him off!”

“He’ll scream my name, and that’s the first orgasm right there. It’s always either on the door, the wall or on the mirror, maybe the living room if we make it. I’ll take him upstairs, finger him open properly with some lube and he’s already desperate, clinging onto me for round two. He doesn’t like coming with my fingers, no my baby likes to be stretched like a shirt.”

The interviewer is baffled, blushing furiously with anger, embarrassment and a twinge of sexual frustration.

“God, if he begs I’ll let him get on top, if I didn’t restrain him already with some thigh cuffs. Those are his favorite, did I mention that? Since you’re so worried about whether my husband loves me or not, did you know he likes thigh cuffs?”

“No, Mr. Suh, I didn’t.” He gives in because this will actually make him a millionaire. Johnny Suh on air, live tv, telling his fans how he fucks his husband after a long flight.

“He doesn’t like being tied to the bed, or handcuffs behind his back. He likes when he’s actually hopeless, but not hopeless enough to run. When he runs, he wants me to catch him like a chicken. If he does, which he’s usually too tired to do, but if he does I don’t have enough patience to put him back in the bed. I’ll stand him up against the dresser, or I’ll _fuck_ him into the same carpet you sat on not too long ago with your curiosity to see where I bang him.”

“Mhm.” He hums, fingers fiddling nervously with the paper in his lap. There were still seven more questions to get to, but he doesn’t see them being answered on set.

“If he’s still hard after that, we’ll have a short slow fuck to really feel each other, because I miss my baby. Kissing, soft touches. You know, how the movies do it. Then, he’ll take a shower, I’ll press him against the glass, if we make it in time, if not, then two rounds in the bathroom, usually against the sink.”

“So what you’re saying is your husband lets you ravish him a few times, and that’s how you know he hasn’t been sated while over seas.” The interviewer rolls his eyes.” That’s like saying your dog likes you for feeding him.” He chuckles obnoxiously, but stops when Johnny smiles.   


“Oh, it’s not just a few times.” Johnny lifts his head, a scandalous expression playing over his face.” No, no Let’s consider this. He’s been away from me for about maybe two, three weeks at a time. He doesn’t like flying very much, and he has to remember every language of the country before he leaves. On top of that he doesn’t have time to jerk off while having business meetings, and too tired to get it up. A few times is an understatement, Mr Lee.” Johnny finishes, with a wink.

“Would you care to inform us how many times and each position as well?” The interviewer give a fake smile.” Or is that all.” He snaps sarcastically. Johnny doesn’t like his attitude anymore.

“There are times I put Ten on his _neck_. I don’t know the names of all the sinful things we’ve done. The number of times we fuck when he gets back, _uncountable_. All I can say is I usually feel like an empty plastic bag, and he’s...very full. Like a water bottle,”

“Thank you, Mr.Suh.” He sighs, annoyed, because he didn’t expect such a thing to happen on air. In front of his colleagues and his subordinates. His manager, the man who signs his check even came to see the Famous Johnny Suh.

“Thank you for having me.”

Cut


	2. Chapter 2

_ “We’ll tumble into the wall with nothing more then the spit from his mouth to slip in that tight ass of his.” _

Ten has been in Brazil for about a week, it was beautiful, just as it was blazing with the sun beaming down on his condo. The ac blared loud, however the interview on the only channel that wasn’t in Spanish or Portuguese caught is eye.

He witnesses his husband on live tv, describing how ravenous he was when he came home from one of his annoying business trips.

He felt a little exposed, but he _enjoyed_ the way Johnny described him.

Ten stares at the tv, the slight frustrated lines encompassing his husbands face, the look he knew meant someone may be strangled by the time the interview was over.

He watches the interviewer fiddle with his point cards, written down and well memorized words to get something, anything out of Johnny.

Ten grips his own thigh and struggles to find the correct button that turns down the air conditioner.

He wants to hear him, wants to listen to his husband answer diligently.

His hands are wet, hairline already dripping it sweat as he unbuckles his belt and pulls it from his waist. Johnny shifts in his seat, nothing but dominance surrounding him, the aura he had around him was truly sexy to Ten.

He noticed the thin layer of makeup usually assigned to him when he had an interview. They didn’t need to touch up much, just a little eyeshadow, some concealer to make his fans believe he’s getting enough rest each night.

Ten closed his legs, Johnny’s voice deepening to that low rumble he usually used when he was whispering hot, sinful things into his ear to drive him crazy.

Ten finally opens his slacks, his cock already half hard from his husbands body displayed on national tv, describing so causally how impatient he can be.

Ten grasps his dick fully, his thumb spreading the small beads from his slit to add an easier glide as he strokes his hand up his cock, bringing it down painfully slow and trying to mimic how well Johnny would tease him when he wasn’t busy.

On the days he didn’t need to sleep in to prepare for his language lesson or when he just needed some rest because of jet lag.

He missed Johnny so much right now, his hands grasping his waist, touching his thighs and squeezing them as he thrusts up into him like a mad man.

He doesn’t even know what to imagine his husband is doing to him. Every image that comes into his head brings him closer to going mad. It makes him more needy, the thought of his husband alone in the kitchen, dirty from cooking. His hand covered in flour, shirt a little crumpled and stained as he prepares more ingredients to bless their dinner.

“Johnny.” He moans breathlessly. He’s so vulgar considering many people are watching him talk about this.

“ _He doesn’t like coming with my fingers, no my baby likes to be stretched like a shirt.”_

Ten can’t stop his hand from wandering lower, sliding between his thighs as he lifts his legs. He swipes his fingers over his hole, feeling it twitch and and convulse. He tries to mimic Johnny as best as he can, imagines him talking so dirty against his ear about how needy he was before he’s even touched him.

He wants a taste so badly. Just enough to take the edge off the nerd brewing between his leg.

He brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks them in, sliding his tongue over, around and between them until their slick with spit and leave a messy trail over his sweaty thighs. He presses them into his ass, feeling himself suck them in and groans.

It’s not enough, but he’ll make it enough.

He tried to push them deeper with each shallow thrust , the stretch makes him want to keep trying but missing his prostate over and over annoys him.

He moves forward a little on the couch, changing the angle as he watches Johnny’s jaw tighten as he did whenever he was challenged. The interviewer was clearly intimidated.

“ _Oh!_ ” He cried out, finally hitting what mattered the most and cherishing the feeling of his cock swell. Tip flushed red, shaft hard as he leaked against his slightly exposed belly.

“ _Johnny_.” He moans again, speeding his fingers up and pulling his bottom lip into his mouth.

He didn’t need to watch, his voice alone could drive him up a literal wall.” Right there...” he spoke to himself, Johnny in his head was fucking him so _good_ , giving his husband what he needed so well.

Ten threw his head back, chanting his husbands name, wrist cramping but he wouldn’t dare stop with his cock aching so bad to come and his prostate loving the attention after a week of neglect.

Johnny in his head told him it was ok to come, so he did. He made a mess of his stomach and one of his favorite dress shirts.

He kept his fingers nestled deep in him because that’s usually where Johnny kept his cock for a few minutes.

His lips grew dry from the warmth that replaced the cool air in his condo. He licked over them, relaxing his tense hips and letting his knees rest on either side of his head against his shoulders.

He was flexible and trained enough to stay in this position for a while. Sometimes Johnny fell asleep on top of him.

He only left his dazewhen a Spanish commercial aired after the interview.

He kept his fingers nestled deep in his ass, reaching blindly for his phone with his left hand until he hits the device.He quickly calls Johnny, putting the phone on speaker and leaving it on his chest.

“ _Hey babe, how’s Brazil_?” He can hear the smirk in his voice. The cockiness made him want to jump on him and slap him all the same. Ten grunts a little, fingers jostling within him and rubbing against his sensitive prostate as he shifted against the cushion.

“ _You_ are the _devil_.”


End file.
